Stronger
by PaperFromAshes
Summary: "Nothing makes you stronger than knowing that your friends died because they had faith in your abilities to make sure their deaths weren't in vain." Percy and Annabeth's fall into Tartarus and scenes from then on. Story climaxes with final battle at the Doors of Death. Two-shot plus epilogue
1. Part I

**Disclaimer**: _I wish I was Rick Riordan. _

The walls are closing in on them as they fall, giving Percy a faint sense of claustrophobia, which is ridiculous, since it's always been Grover whose scared of things like that. He brings Annabeth closer to him, shielding her with his body against the falling cars and spiderwebs and the pointy spines of rock protruding from the tunnel.

He can feel the ground approaching, even if he can't see it, because the evil that reverberates off of the stones and strikes his heart with heavy weights is growing by the second. But as long as this precious demigod in his arms is with him, alive and fighting with flashing grey eyes and bouncy golden curls, he is okay.

Or so he thinks.

There's no way they can get to the Doors of Death if they don't survive the crash first. So keeping a steady hold on Annabeth with one hand, Percy yanks the cap off Riptide, watching it fall into the darkness (will its powers still work in the depths of Tartarus?), and plunges it with all his might into the rock.

"Percy!" yells Annabeth, over the wind of their fall. "Stop! Your arm can't sustain the momentum!"

Percy knows she's being serious when she stops calling him Seaweed Brain, but at least this way, they have a chance at staying alive, regardless the state of his arm.

_Dad? I don't know if you can hear me this deep down...but, uh, some help would be nice. Just this thing. And then help the others meet us at the Doors. _

Loose pebbles and grit pummel the heroes in their faces as Riptide wavers under the enormous pressure. Percy's arm feels like it's being ripped off; nevertheless, he puts his entire body weight onto the sword, slowing their descend down tremendously.

The ride is not smooth, and he grunts as they rocket down the vertical pathway carved by his sword. Annabeth has lost her own dagger, so she helps by grabbing on to any small ledge she sees. The moments that frighten Percy the most are those few seconds when Annabeth's sweaty hands are separated from his own.

Percy lets out a breath when they at last skid to a stop. _Thanks Dad. _

His arm is on fire, with numbing pain spreading to his torso, and Annabeth's hands are scraped bloody and raw. He turns to Annabeth, and although she might not see it in the dark, he flashes her his typical crooked smile and says, "See? All those push-ups weren't for nothing."

Annabeth's face is red and she's panting hard, her heart hammering into his chest, when she rolls her eyes and replies, "Don't flatter yourself, Seaweed Brain."

Then they look down, fifty feet to where the ashen ground threatens them to jump, and all pretenses of normal banter fall as the demigods realize that they are literally fifty feet from Hell.

At this point, Percy isn't sure if he can unwrap his fingers from their rigid position clenching the hilt of Riptide, and he's pretty sure someone has taken a match to his sleeve and ignited his whole arm, with the way the burning sensation is throbbing through his whole body.

"Wise Girl, I'm going to need to you to piggyback me. My arm...kind of hurts."

Annabeth scoffs and shifts onto his back, latching her arms around his neck, but he feels her distribute her weight so that almost none of it is on his injured limb. Percy is relieved she passes it off as a joke and doesn't say anything; he can't be vulnerable right now and no one can see him weak in such a perilous situation like this.

Which, of course, is ridiculous, since this is Annabeth he's thinking about.

Slowly, he maneuvers his way down the rocks, and vaguely wonders if Chiron had this in mind when he built the climbing wall. Then again, he would rather scale the lava wall a hundred times than descend these rocks, where the gravity dragging them down exerts a hundred times its usual force. Luckily, all of the debris has fallen past them, so they are out of harm's way in regards to cars and cement. Pretty ironic, considering all the other monsters that are now out for their blood and flesh.

Halfway down, he pauses for a break, when suddenly, a weight lifts off his back, exposing his tattered t-shirt and bare skin.

"Annabeth? Annabeth! Where are you!" Percy frantically gropes around him. Gruesome images flood his mind- Annabeth falling, Annabeth's broken limbs scrawled on the floor below, her lifeless grey eyes, her non-responsive smile. Had he not held her tightly enough? Had he not felt her slipping? "Oh gods, Annabeth!"

"Right here, Seaweed Brain," comes Wise Girl's voice next to him. She is holding her own weight on the rocks. Percy whips his head around and he can faintly see the outline of blond curls bobbing in the blackness.

"Sorry," she apologizes. At least she acknowledges the fact that losing her is the scariest thing that could ever happen to Percy.

The pressure on his arms has lessened slightly, but somehow he aches to have it back. Percy scolds himself for not trusting Annabeth to take care of herself, because she has more than enough ability to.

"S'kay," Percy mutters, and the two climb down in silence.

When they reach the bottom, Percy just wants to lay down, douse his body in icy cold water, and sleep for a week. Something in his gut, though, makes him test out the sea of pebbles with a nudge of his sneaker before putting a whole foot on. Annabeth too seems wary when she steps down, her converse crunching popcorn on the gravel, leaning on Percy for support since her makeshift cast isn't the best painkiller in the world. Percy can't tell exactly what, but something is wrong. Even considering the fact that they're in Tartarus.

The air tints gray, and Percy has to squint to view Annabeth. Everything else is still a blur, a visage of storm clouds. The ashen ground extends for miles beyond what Percy can humanly see, without any sign of direction or landmarks.

"Something's wrong," says Annabeth, echoing Percy's thoughts. "Something's missing."

Percy groans, "Wise Girl, this is where you come into use."

She furrows her eyebrows and Percy waits for the genius plan that is sure to come.

"Sometime soon would be nice," teased Percy gently, trying to ease the mood. Waves of nervous and tension were rolling off both of them.

"Shut up, Seaweed Brain." Annabeth pushes Percy's shoulder.

It's a playful gesture, no more than a feather tap, but the contact spurs fiery agony through Percy, who can't keep in a gasp and falters a step back. He tastes hot salty blood in his mouth from where he bit his tongue.

The ends of Annabeth's lips pull down and she murmurs, "Where's the ambrosia when you need it?"

Percy says through gritted teeth, "I'm...fine." He switches Riptide to his left hand, the sword feeling ten times heavier in Tartarus than above ground. "Let's go."

Lead weights trap his feet when he tries to take a step, and looking down, he realizes the gravel is crumbling up, silently devouring away at their feet. It has risen up to Annabeth's ankle, black coals contrasting starkly with her starchy, pale flesh.

Percy turns to latch onto the wall in order to pull them up, but he whips around to blind air. The gravel lurches violently, and the more they struggle, the faster they sink. Their hands manage to meet while each is flailing in the dark and for a moment, the demigods steady themselves afloat.

"Sorry," amends Annabeth, when she tugs on Percy's injured arm to keep him (and herself) from toppling into the gravel, which seems to have a life of its own.

"I'm fine," Percy repeats, but his face is a sickly shade of yellow. "We just need to get out of these rocks. Any ideas, Wise Girl?"

Silence.

"Wise Girl?" Percy shakes her arm with his good hand. "Hello? Annabeth!"

"Wha-? Oh, he-" Annabeth almost falls over before Percy helps her upright again.

"Did you fall asleep or something?" Percy chuckles nervously.

"N-no," Annabeth stammers indignantly. "My-my head. I can't focus. What did you say?"

Percy half opens his mouth, then closes it again, and then opens it again to say something, but a sharp stab of fire erupting near his heel interrupts him. At this point, panic is settling in, a fast-paced breathless sensation that fires bullets of adrenaline through his system; Percy is submerged up to his shin, and Annabeth to her knees. Now the coal is on fire too?

Annabeth rubs her fingers against her temples and shakes her head. "Ah...Percy, water!"

"What?"

"Water!"

"Water what?"

Annabeth winces as something presses itself against her skin, charring a good size circular burn mark into her leg. "Are you a son of Poseidon or what?!"

Percy gives up trying to get her to elaborate and concentrates on the pressure in his gut. He holds his breath and tightens his muscles, but it feels like a hot leather band is wrapped around his stomach, guarding any demigod magic from escaping.

"Water!" Annabeth's senses seem to have virtually failed her, as she has only the mental capacity to recapitulate the same thing without furthering her piercing headache.

It's the sizzling of their skin and the acid ashen smell of burning flesh that makes Percy go crazy, releasing as much energy as he had exerted holding up the sky on Mt. Tamalpais to summon a surge of water. The river is warm and slow, soothing their feet and lifting them up out of the gravel.

Percy inches forward his big toe, now exposed to the foul air after the coals had burned through his shoes, tenderly experiments with the grumbling gravel, and shoots back when it hisses like a stove top. He wills the water to dribble in front of him, and sighs in relief when the liquid covers the hot surfaces.

"So where to, Wise Girl?"

"My gut is telling me that way." Annabeth points to a spot in the darkness. The area is no different from the other million spots of darkness, and they all broadcast a certain tantalizing wickedness, but Percy really has no better suggestion. He stretches out his water carpet and they continue along the pale blue road.

After a while, Percy's stomach begins to cramp and beads of sweat break out on his dry, clammy skin. Annabeth questions his limping gait, but it's obvious she's not really listening when he replies, busy dealing with her own monstrous headache that is buffeting the back of her skull.

"I think...Tartarus is killing our magic," Percy utters huskily, the river mandating all his energy now. "It probably even...affects Athena's kids' abilities too."

"Great," frowns Annabeth. "Are you saying I'm stupid now?"

"Now you know how I feel," Percy counters.

"I don't know how you- ow!" Annabeth jerks back mid-step with a scorched foot and massages it with the water behind them.

"Sorry," apologizes Percy meekly, his fists clenching as the water re-positions itself, like crawling fingers.

Annabeth is silent for a moment, and then: "We need to find land. Regular land. You're not going to be holding up much longer."

Usually Percy would have protested and insisted that they continue in the direction they've been going without catering to his needs, but his ragged unsteady wheezes and hunched shivering shoulders tells Annabeth his body is demanding an agreement. The layer of water beneath them is thinning and a dull floor of heat radiates under it.

"Maybe we can find a wall," suggests Percy. "Climb on it or something."

Annabeth picks up handfuls of gravel- small enough to warm her hands like they were around a campfire, but not enough to burn- and throws pebbles in different directions as they trudge on. By the time they hear a distant clink of the rock hitting a solid mass, Percy has already stopped them twice to throw up.

He wipes blood from his mouth and whispers feebly, with a swollen tongue and scratchy throat, "Thank the gods..."

Annabeth glances at her boyfriend worriedly. They refrain from talking to save him some strength, and she tries to keep her steps as in line as possible, so the water's width is barely the two of them standing shoulder-to-shoulder, huddling together. She holds half of Percy's weight: his arm is slung over her shoulder, relying on her support whenever he trips on his own two left feet.

As for Percy, the environment becomes a blur. All he sees is a visage of blue, that nearly looked white from him staring in concentration at the water so hard. A vacuum is fighting with him for air, sucking the precious gas away the moment it enters his lungs, and leaves him in a hacking, coughing fit that sends Annabeth into hysteria. What hurts the most, though, is his stomach. There are tsunamis and hurricanes and thunderstorms raging in there, churning his insides to pieces, lighting a fire, and burying it under three thousand tons of stone.

The bottoms of their feet are almost burning, but this is the most he can do.

"100 feet away," encourages Annabeth, her voice shaky, but intended to be fierce and hopeful. "Don't you dare give up on me now, Seaweed Brain."

Sweat drips down their bodies and the heat sizzles from the coals. The temperature is at least twenty degrees higher than the hottest heat wave in New York City.

When they get to the wall, Annabeth finds a narrow foothold wide enough for the both of them- their first coin of luck in Tartarus!- and Percy all but collapses onto the stone slab, which is burning hot, but still a couple watery degrees lower than their feverish skin.

Tartarus is already so black that Percy can barely tell unconsciousness from staying awake, but right before he goes, he notices Annabeth's determined and protective jaw set, scrunched eyebrows marred with a side of quiet distress, and grave look in her quivering hands and red eyes.

"I will...forever...sympathize with you...whenever you're...on your period...again." It's a weak effort, but anything is better than this serious silence that rings of despair. Annabeth relaxes a bit, seeing that Seaweed Brain is recovering well enough to make stupid jokes. He tries to swallow back the bile and blood that arise from the statement, and pass off the explosion in his chest for clearing his throat; which ends up sounding akin to Lupa's bark. If Annabeth notices, she doesn't show it, and Percy thanks her for it.

He wants more than anything to stay up with her, and even though it's not much, add his brain to hers to help her figure out a plan- but he can't. So he settles for wrapping one arm around her shoulder and standing half behind her, so that he's resting on wall behind them and she's leaning on his torso.

Percy figures it's better this way for the time being, since he trusts her a lot more than he trusts his own eyes to see approaching danger.

_The camp is normal. Kids bearing the standard orange Camp Half-Blood shirt are milling around in their cabin groups. Silena chats with her Aphrodite friends by the lakeside, and she pulls one of the girls back from falling into the water after leaning over too far to check her reflection. Lee and Micheal from Apollo are having an archery contest at the shooting range to see which one of them will miss the bulls-eye first, which, of course, will never end since they never miss. Beckondorf hammers away at a sturdy silver broadsword, sparks flying and heat shimmering in the air around the workshop, occasionally glancing over at Silena with a timid smile. _

_ Percy immediately knows something is sorely wrong, since these campers have been causing him heartache ever since their deaths in the Titan War. Still, he breaths in the sights and sounds of their presence, wishing he could go down and pat Beckondorf on the back, and start up a conversation about how he and Silena were doing. _

_ And Beckondorf would reply, "I never thought I'd give up time working at the shop to spend time with a girl. But it's pretty damn awesome, especially since all that talk about her...role in the Titan War has blown over." Because everyone would honor Silena as a hero, not a traitor._

_ So Percy would laugh and say, "The other boys want your head, you know that? Silena is...pretty nice, if you know what I mean."_

_ Beckondorf: "Yeah, and I'd have your head for saying that if you weren't already with Annabeth."_

_ "Don't mention I said that to her."_

_ "Hah, sure. You want to live another day?"_

_ "This isn't a joking matter."_

_ And they would both laugh, because they both knew he was entirely joking, and Annabeth would be the only one who would ever catch his eye. _

_ "Say, when are you guys going off to the Roman camp?"_

_ "I don't know, to be honest. It's on the other side of the country. We both have things to tie up."_

_ Then a silence, because Beckondorf would be thinking what the camp would be like without Percy, and Percy would be thinking how life would be once he and Annabeth settled down in the peaceful Roman college campus. No gods, no wars, no nothing. _

_ "Beckondorf, I've been thinking."_

_ "You, thinking? What has the world come to?"_

_ "Shut up. Anyways, I'm going to run this idea by Reyna and Jason and the others over there too, but...we should have a system where there's no discrimination between Romans and Greeks. Like, every demigod who's in the area could go to either camp. And be accepted, no matter who their parent or where their from."_

_ "It's a venture, Percy. Some of the Romans still hate us."_

_ "We've fought a war against Gaea, and won! We even helped each other rebuild the camps. Everybody in both camps knows how the other camp works by now."_

_ "Well, I'm sure everyone here will help you convince them then. We'd never let you go alone."_

_ And Percy would agree, and the plan would work. Not because it was him shouldering the leadership and diplomacy, but because both camps would agree to it and he wouldn't have to choose in an argument between them._

_Then, out of nowhere, Beckondorf's face morphs into a mask of pain and he looks down at his stomach. A bloody knife sticks out. Behind him, the camp erupts into savage orange and red. The cabins come crashing down like dominoes and smoke envelops Percy. _

_ From the mess, he hears someone calling his name. _

_ He's frantic to find the person, but no matter where he runs, he just runs into more grey and red and black. He trips, stumbles over soft flesh, and sobs as he leaps over the bodies of his fallen friends. _

_ "Annabeth!" he calls. His voice doesn't travel more than five feet and he can barely hear himself. He can barely hear anything, like someone is covering his head with a towel. All sounds are muffled, muted, and so is her voice when she calls back. _

_ "Perc-" she's cut off abruptly, as if someone has pressed pause to a tape recorder, and Percy has never longed to hear the last "y" sound of his name so much. _

_ "Annabeth! Where are you?"_

_ And a stroke of brilliant luck: she appears in his arms. Something's wrong though. She's lying down, her face is pale, her grey eyes have no energy or strength. They're hurt and her mouth is open and filled with blood. There's a sword in her chest, aimed right at her heart. Percy's hands are holding the hilt, and he recognizes the sword to be the one he's used in battle time after time. _

_ She chokes and whispers, "How could you-" and the tape recorder ends. _

**A/N: First part of a maybe-two-shot. Depends on reader reactions and depends on where the plot bunny takes me. **

**I welcome any kind of review. :)**


	2. Part II

**Disclaimer**~~

"Percy? Percy? Percy! Wake up!"

Percy's eyes fly open and he jolts back to reality in a quivering cold sweat. The force knocks Annabeth off the platform. She winces as the coals char her toes, and he hurriedly pulls her back up.

"Sorry! You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," grumbles Annabeth.

"I'm really sorry, Annabeth, seriously, I-" Percy rambles on, partly because his mind is still running frantic from thought of her laying there, with him not able to do anything, which burns a vivid, putrid stench.

"Stop it, Percy, I'm fine, and you know I'm fine. What I don't know for sure is whether or not you're fine."

"I- I'm fine," Percy lies, knowing his efforts were futile the moment the words trailed off his tongue.

Annabeth stares at him; then he sees her hand flash, a blur in front of his eyes.

"Owwww! Annabeth!" Percy complains, rubbing his stinging cheek.

"Don't lie to me, Seaweed Brain. You obviously dreamt something. What was it about?"

She allows him time to gather his thoughts. He takes a gulp and starts out unsteadily, "Camp...Camp Half-Blood. And everyone who died in the Titan War. You know...Silena, Michael, Lee...Beckondorf."

The camp seems light-years away- was it just a couple weeks ago that they'd been back there?- and Annabeth's face softens. It is a sore subject for them all.

"I went up and talked to Beckondorf."

"About?"

"The war. This war. We beat Gaea, and the camps were rebuilt, and I was telling him about how the Greeks and the Romans could start making a treaty, putting the past behind us. Then...,"

Annabeth reaches for his hand and rubs her thumb in soothing circles. "What happened next?" she prompts.

"The camp went up in flames. Beckondorf...he died. You...you were there." Percy's face hardens and then collapses, all of the stress and pain more evident than ever. "You died. I killed you." He whispers the last part as if it is a self-realization, a possible truth that might occur in the near future, for whatever horrible, unthinkable reason.

"Percy?" He doesn't realize he is breathing hard until Annabeth settles a palm onto his panting chest.

"Mmm...?"

"You know you'd never do that, right? You know I'd never let you do that anyways?"

He sighs, "Yeah, I know. It was just that I wanted it so bad. Everyone, together and alive."

Annabeth pecks him on the lips. "Seaweed Brain, it's just Kronos playing with your mind. He's here in Tartarus, probably. You're stronger than him, though. Stronger than any monster he or Gaea could ever throw at you. A lot stronger."

Percy looks at her carefully, and all he finds is intent truth, the kind he knew from past experience that couldn't be argued with.

"You'll hit me again if I disagree with you, won't you?"

She smirks, "Hell yeah I am."

It takes Percy a few more days to have faith in Annabeth's words, which was a new record, since he usually trusts something she mutters half-asleep, half-coherent more than he trusts his own opinion.

A few days feel like decades in Tartarus time. A few days means thousands of monsters (who apparently are immune to the hot coal floor) and dozens of welts, bruises, cuts, and burns that creak, singe and burn with every touch and move, due to the poison that resides in them. A few days means countless endless nights, where the shimmering points of stalagmites hanging like darts from the ceiling are their stars, and Kronos' laughs are the last things they hear before jolting awake in each other's arms. A few days means the exponentially growing hole in the pit of their hearts, crushing deeper into despair and hopelessness, to a point where sometimes they have to stop, sit, and play memory games to keep each other sane.

"Okay, Seaweed Brain. What's your name?"

He doesn't know how Annabeth does it so much better than him. Whenever Percy starts to apologize for his incompetence and growing guiltiness, she assures him it's because he is forced to keep up a steady stream of water underneath their feet nearly every moment. By now, he has become accustomed to the half-conscious state he's suspended in most of the time, delegating whatever leftover energy he has from the water to simply breathing.

"Hey, wake up, will you? What's your name?"

Percy hates that she won't let him just rest. He's done so much to get them to this monster-free ledge, large enough so the both of them can sit and face each other. Why can't he have a minute of peace?

"Percy! What's your name?" Annabeth jerks on his arm as gently as possible without hurting his torn shoulder. There are so many injuries on both of them, they can hardly touch each other without coming in contact with one.

"Percy? Percy!" Annabeth's voice gets higher and squeakier. Percy thinks he sees her, tears streaking down her grimy face, but then again, he could be dreaming right now.

Still, dream or not, the sight of Annabeth so worried spurs him to reiterate what she said.

"P...Percy," he slurs softly.

"Ye-yes, that's right. Percy Jackson. Your name is Percy Jackson." She speaks slowly, like he is a toddler, her mouth exaggerating the shapes needed to make the sounds.

"I'm...Percy...Jackson," he dully repeats.

"Good job. Now, who am I?"

Somehow, remembering her is so much more easier than remember himself.

"Annabeth. Chase," he enunciates, making the both of them relieved (her, more than himself) that he is at least conscience in _that_ part of his mind.

Death's doors are so close to them- in both ways. The large black obsidian wall stretches on for as long as Percy can look up. As they get closer, the door morphs into a plethora of gaseous, toxic clouds, semi-solid, creating a plume of fluffy smoke and haze when Percy sticks his hand into the eddies. He carries Annabeth at his side- the floor of coals stopped a while back, and he's recovered well enough to now return the favor and support Annabeth, whose condition is steadily declining.

A restrained blanket of light emits behind the shadowy gray curtains, and the first rays of natural sunlight stings Percy's eyes, but it is a good kind of pain. A hopeful pain.

"Come on, Annabeth," he grunts raspily, lurching to one side to catch her unbalanced, emaciated frame. "Almost there."

Arachne howls in the distance, her spiders screeching and crawling to race up to the demigods. She is the last monster, and the first, refusing to give up on the one whose family has humiliated her three times now.

They drag themselves along the edge of the door, and inch by inch, Percy gets closer to the opening, to freedom. Fresh sun bathes his skin, grown scaly, ghastly, and pale from the type of darkness in Tartarus that sucks all the moisture out of a body.

His fingers rake at the corner, and the sunlight heals Annabeth just enough to give her the energy to raise her head. They both stare weakly and in awe at the sight in front of them.

Nico and Hazel are raising an army of skeletons ornamented in gold and silver jewelry, puppet-masters as their minions slice and hack through a crowd of slithering purple snakes with horns and axes. Jason and Piper fight back to back, Piper's dagger reflecting the sun as it makes a brilliant, deadly arc toward a cyclops' head and Jason's gladius buzzing with electricity and shocking any monsters that come within a ten feet range of them. Frank is nowhere to be seen, but Percy hears a hawk cry from up above and a flutter of powerful wings, soon followed with razor-sharp talons diving down at a herd of centaurs. There's also a boom in the distance and a long trail of smoke wafts up into the sky. Percy can only assume the other curly-haired, Latino demigod of the seven is behind it.

It's Frank that notices them first, with his enhanced bird vision and all. He caws enthusiastically, beating his brown-white wings furiously and coming to a running landing in front of Percy. Moments later, Percy and Annabeth are crushed within his (human) bear hug.

"I knew you'd guys would make it!" he exclaims, his face beaming brighter than the sky.

Percy mumbles something, but his tongue is dry and heavy in his mouth and can't form the right words.

Frank immediately understands and pulls a Ziploc bag of small golden crackers from within his armor.

"We already prepared the right portions for you guys. It's the most two demigods can take without burning up."

Percy opens the bag, and he and Annabeth devour the pack of ambrosia like hungry wolves on a hunk of lean meat. He's feeling feverish after eating all those magic squares of blue chocolate chip cookies, and he knows its the most he can eat, but he wants more. Even if it means he might die, he wants more.

Frank sees his look and says quietly, "We can hold up the monsters for little bit longer. Rest first."

Annabeth shakes her head and jabs her finger in the direction behind them. "Arachne," she gasps.

"We can't defend from both sides. We'll have to close it now," Frank decides.

Percy looks helplessly at him.

"Nico's figured something out. Made a deal with his father or something, to help us close the Doors without locking someone inside."

At this point, the others have noticed their presence, and although they can't let up their defenses to come and welcome Percy and Annabeth, the heroes all battle with renewed vigor, grins creeping onto their faces.

Nico allows Hazel complete reign over their skeletons and steps to the side behind her. He shuts his eyes and the ground shakes violently. His entire body vibrates, and jagged black lines of an oil-like substance secretes around him. Then, Percy blinks, and it's all over, except now a god in royal battle armor stands in front of him.

Hades lifts his helm, and it disappears into a wisp of smoke. His armor is a black hole, a vortex of all damned souls trapped to serve their master in the war for the survival of the gods. All monsters disintegrate around him, and Jason and Piper are left showered mid-strike in onyx dust, looking back to see what happened.

"Jackson." His voice rumbles, smooth and rich. "Glad to see you're still alive."

"Me too," Percy hiccups softly, slightly ashamed of his servile position, collapsed on the ground, head raised at the god.

Hades turns to Annabeth, who manages to give him a quarter of her usual blazing firm look- pretty resilient considering all that she's been through.

"Miss Chase. Well done."

His calm tone sets Percy on edge, more so than any creature they encountered in Tartarus. The gods should be sweating, bleeding, and crying with their children, not waltzing around in dramatic smoke and gallant armor, congratulating them like it's not really a big deal. But before Percy can spit back a response that probably would have caused the god to consider absorbing his soul into the armor, Hades turns away to Nico and Hazel, who are not kneeling, but avoiding eye contact and fingering the hems of their shirts nervously.

"I don't suppose I can still talk you out of this," Hades sighs, more gently than Percy expects.

Hazel looks up fiercely, then falters at the towering sight of her father standing so close, but regains her posture with a jut of her chin. "If we don't do this, people die...sir."

"Always so brave," Hades murmurs, laying a hand on Hazel's shoulder, which immediately stiffens. "If only you could learn to stand the sight of your own father without freezing up so."

"You left my mother to die."

"And, dear child, I regret it nearly every day."

"Um, excuse me?" Nico talks hurriedly. "We should do it soon if...if, you don't mind."

Hades stares at him, and for a second, Percy almost believes lasers will shoot out of his eyes and fry his friend up on the spot; but the god of the Underworld is naturally scary that way. Instead, Hades looks more like a father than ever- a father worn out with the thought of having to send his only two children into Tartarus.

"Yes. Yes, my boy, we should." Then he leans down and envelops them in his arm, a sort of half-hug, half-pat, since Nico and Hazel, eyes wide open, are too shocked to give much in return. He straightens up and declares, "I have no doubt that you two are strong enough for the job ahead of you. Whatever happens, Nico deAngelo and Hazel Levesque will be remembered as heroes."

He pauses, turns to Percy, and says, "Jackson here won't let Poseidon take all the glory again, will he?"

"Oh. Uh, no. No, he won't," Percy coughs.

"Right then. I really do wish I can be of more help- to you two, of course, not these other demigod wastes of space," Hades adds dryly, reverting back into his usual non-paternal self. "But I'm already walking a fine line between breaking the law by giving you a way back out. Now, stand here."

Nico and Hazel follow Hades instructions and listen intently as he describes what is waiting for them on the other side. After, he raises his hands, and Percy knows from experience to close his eyes, as a blinding light flashes through his eyelids. The two demigods are gone, replaced with a burial mound of jewels, ashes and bones.

The god disappears as well, but his presence lurks in Percy's mind, a wisp of a wisp of a ghost, barely there.

_Jackson...I am notorious for holding grudges, but even I must admit, you've surpassed our expectations. This is my present to you. Do not disappoint._

A surge of power coarses through his bones, unlike the rush he usually experiences when someone dumps ice cold water on him. The power is grounded and dark, not wild and raging as the sea is. It's as if the vast resources of the Underworld are channeling through his body.

When he gets up, his injuries are healed for the most part, aside from minor aches and bruises. Seeing the monsters rebirth and converge on him again, monsters who had frozen or been vaporized while Hades was there, he realizes now his mental condition is the thing to worry about, not his physical. Fear pounds at the door and the locks he's built up are flimsy and weak.

The monsters charge, with horns, teeth, and claws. Frank religiously defends the burial ground where Hazel and Nico are supposed to return. Annabeth, who is also healed, dangerously wields a spare dagger that Piper hands her. The two girls guard the left and right flank of the attack. _The Argo II_ is racing toward them in the distance, but it'll be a while before Leo arrives. Jason catches his eye, and Percy nods, indicating that he is ready.

The war cry is a bit overrated, but it helps him release all his anger and frustration into the first blow.

"Arggggh!" Percy stabs Riptide into the furry, soft belly of the nearest monster, a draconian who slithers and hisses in fury as its tail convulses once more before evaporating into black dust. The spear that armed the monster is left behind, and Percy thrusts that behind him, vanquishing the draconian's ugly sister sneaking up on him.

Percy feels good to be back in action.

He feels a lake out in the distance, and in a moment, a raging tornado of water floods his side of the battle, the monsters screeching and wailing when the current sweeps them away into oblivion. The water coordinates with him, like an extra sense, no longer curbed by Tartarus' curse. In reality, it's harder to manage than usual (which probably explains why Jason's lightning bolts occasionally strike empty rock, scattering the monsters in a wide berth, but not completely frying them)- still, compared to the way the water rebelled against him in Tartarus, it works miracles.

He spins a full circle, Riptide gleaming with sticky monster blood, and finds himself back-to-back with the son of Zeus. To be honest, he prefers Annabeth, simply because of- well, simply _because_. Nevertheless, there's a certain quality about two children of the Big Three fighting as one that makes monster life expectancy plunge into an abyss.

"If only Hades was here," Jason says grimly, as the two heroes consecutively save each other from dying a narrow death by concussion at the hands (or rather legs) of a centaur's hind kick. There's a circle of thunder and hail over the demigods, pouring rain and crashing lightning, but they are barely managing; the circle is shrinking.

Percy knows that he doesn't mean the god himself, but instead his child, therefore completing the trio of the Big Three at last. Forces censored because of their power to end the world, now united to save it.

Leo comes just in time, with a statement that makes Percy nostalgic for his satyr best friend.

"Yo, monster creeps! Eat my enchilada butt!" Fire and oil leak from the sky as Festus' head appears over the treetops. Enchiladas stuffed with avocado, chicken, pepper, and other Mexican toppings pellet the most concentrated region of monsters, stunning them or knocking them down long enough for one of the demigods on land to wipe them out. Piper has a strange look on her face, and Percy doesn't even bother to ask what happened to the regular ammunition.

A ladder drops, and Leo's head, smeared with oil and ashes, pops over the railing.

He grins wildly. "Percy! Annabeth! I knew it! I knew it!"

"Good to see you too."

"Alright, now climb up onto this thing before I blow up the mountain."

"Before you _what_?"

Jason yells up, ducking under a swinging ax, "Leo, we gotta wait for Nico and Hazel to come back! How long until it blows?...Leo?...Leo!"

"Sorry, man, a little busy here!" A pair of clumsy, bulky Laistrygonians, tall enough to reach the ship, are taking turns jumping up and blowing chunks of metal off the ship's hull with each punch. Leo sends a string of fire from his fingers, burning off half their arms, before coming back to attention.

"Repeat that for me, Grace?"

By that time, Jason is already locked back into battle, nursing a vicious wound to his thigh, where the armor is dented and cracked. Percy throws a group of wheat karpoi off his legs and repeats the question for him.

Leo checks something behind him and answers with a worried look. "Not good, we have two minutes!"

"Can't you push it off?" Percy yells.

"No! The bomb's been set at the base of the mountain! I lost my control over it a while back!"

Percy looks despairingly at the empty burial mound. A grizzly bear swipes at whatever comes close.

And suddenly, Annabeth is behind him, saying the words of truth that nobody wants to hear.

"We have to go." Her voice is soft, but everyone hears it somehow. Piper follows her, running backwards so she can still hold off the tide of monsters.

Percy learned in Tartarus that in moments like this, there's no time for hesitation. Distraught tears and last glances are a waste of time- precious distracted seconds where an unchecked sword can cause a fatal wound. Annabeth knows it too.

Festus pumps out an enormous ball of fire, clearing the area to give time for the demigods to solemnly help each other up the rickety ladder.

He glances at Frank, stubbornly holding his ground near the Doors.

"One minute!" calls Leo.

"Frank! It's useless if you die waiting!"

The boy looks so broken that Percy wants to run in the direction of the Hell that's been his life for the past few days, and wait next to him.

"Frank, come on!" Piper shouts, but she is too agitated for her charmspeak to work effectively.

Feet planted to the spot, Frank shouts, "Go! I'll transform into a bird or something and fly away when they come!"

_ When they come_. Unconvinced, Percy doesn't budge from his position on the ladder, even though Leo calls down a forty-second warning. Tartarus has greatly lessened his faith in the ability of life to delegate fair outcomes.

Frank adds quietly, "I won't die waiting. I'll fly if they don't come in time. I promise."

Someone tugs at Percy's hand.

"Come on, Seaweed Brain. You can't do anything about it. He looks as stubborn as you."

I thought your fatal flaw was loyalty, Percy thinks bitterly to himself. I'll be damned when loyalty means leaving your friends to die.

The problem was, he was already damned. He went through eternal damnation and came out on the other side. Maybe something had been taken away from him. Some trust, some faith, some hope; replaced with anger, hatred, and doubt.

Sudden exhaustion overcomes when he steps onto the ship, now that all the adrenaline is flushed out of his system, and he faints soon after. His dreams are back in Tartarus, though, with the echo of an image of a mountain exploding, swallowed by a sphere of inferno.

**A/N: Don't worry, I'm not THAT mean. An epilogue is coming. **

**Please review! It means a lot to me, even if it's a couple of words. :)**


	3. Epilogue

**Disclaimer**

"Gods, Percy, you win! Now get off!" Annabeth laughs and struggles to lift Percy's iron tight lock on her wrists and shins. Both of them had lost their swords, and they had spent the last minutes of the spar wrestling on the grass. "Percy, seriously, move!"

With a heave, she thrusts her arms up, trying to roll Percy off her. In an actual fight, the move would have minimal effect, but Percy's eyes have glazed over and she frees herself, with him falling beside her. They lay there for a while, catching their breath. Annabeth feels exhilarated, as she always is after a practice session with Percy, but he seems dazed more than anything.

Annabeth props herself up on her elbow and smacks his chest. "Hey, what's wrong? Is this not exciting enough for you? You look like you're about to fall asleep."

He doesn't look her in the eyes when he responds, "Remember the last time we were like that?"

She sighs, afraid that this topic would come up sooner than later. Honestly, she'd rather it up come sooner, but right before the funeral was pretty bad timing.

Oh well, might as well talk it out. No use in holding it in for the next four hours.

"I remember, Percy. I remember that you didn't do it. Even though I was half a second away from stabbing you in the gut, you didn't return the favor."

"But, Annabeth, I _wanted_ to." He flips around so he's staring at her, his green orbs slightly crazed and desperate. "Somehow Kronos got in my head and he made me _want _to. Want to- to kill you."

"It probably wasn't Kronos himself. He'd usually hire one of the minor goddesses or spirits on Gaea's side to do his dirty work. Maybe Styx or something. You know, with her being goddess of hate and all."

"Maybe."

"Seaweed Brain, you seem to forget. You managed to restrain whatever instinct whatever god stuck in you. You're ADHD, for god's sake. It's nearly impossible for you to _not_ give in to your impulses, and yet you still did it."

"Yeah. Yeah, I know."

"You still have nightmares?"

He takes out Riptide from his pocket (Annabeth vaguely wonders whether it had reappeared during their wrestling and if he just chose not to use it) and twiddles with it. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

Annabeth swings herself around, resting her head on his torso. The edge of Riptide's blade is dangerously close to her head, giving her goosebumps from flashbacks of the last time it was so close- back in Tartarus. The shivers give her more guilt than fear, though, since what she's thinking about is exactly what she's trying to convince Percy will never happen. Percy doesn't notice her brief discomfort; he switches playing with Riptide's cap to running his fingers through her curls.

"Talk. It'll make you feel better," Annabeth orders.

Percy rubs his head. "It's- it's the same dream every time, and I feel like I'm reliving it all over again. Like- I see you, and I can see what I'm doing and what I'm feeling, but I'm trapped behind this window or something, watching myself chase you and hate you, and try to kill you, without being able to do anything!"

Annabeth stays silent, remembering the battle herself. She is used to fighting Percy, but never seriously. Never to keep herself alive. Especially never running away from an attacker because she couldn't bear to hurt him.

"And I heard you too. I heard you asking me to stop and think and fight against whoever was in my mind. And I really was, Annabeth! I swear, I was trying like Hades to stop."

"I know," Annabeth says. _It's you, Percy, who needs to know that. Believe what you're saying._

"Can I help? Percy, I'm sure Chiron will let me stay over at your cabin for a few days." It always comforted Annabeth when she woke up and found Percy right next to her- drool or no drool.

"...No, it's not that. The dream always ends with me trapping you under, and I'm an inch away from cutting your throat. I never get to the part where I finally come to my senses. Sometimes I'll wake up with Riptide open in my hands, and if you're there, laying next to me in that position...I'll freak, Wise Girl."

"Percy, you're too big of a pussy to hurt me."

He scoffs, "A pussy?"

"Your fatal flaw is loyalty. Do you really think you'll hurt one of your friends, much less me, before hurting yourself, no matter what kind of weirdo has invaded your head?"

"No. I don't. But it still hurts thinking about it."

"Yeah. Life sucks," Annabeth remarks dryly.

"Tell me about it."

"But we still survived, didn't we? All seven of us. That's pretty epic, if you ask me."

"I'd rather...," Percy bites his tongue.

"You'd rather what? Listen, I know we lost some friends in this war. Too many. So that's why we have the funeral- to honor them. And every day after, we honor them by carrying on with our lives and moving past whatever shit Gaea threw at us. Because we owe them that much."

Smoke wafts up into the air in the distance, near the gathering pit.

"They're starting to burn the shrouds, Percy. Come on, you smell. Let's go shower." Which isn't entirely true, because Percy's sweat always smells perfectly of sea salt and fresh ocean air.

He stretches and puts his arms behind his head.

"You go. I'm going to take a rest here first."

When Annabeth turns to get up and leave, Percy catches her arm and adds with a small smile, "You know something? You really are a Wise Girl sometimes."

A light smattering of applause rounds from the solemn ring of campers around the campfire when Hazel descends the podium from her eulogy. Tears race down her face as she blurts out the last mention of Nico's death right when they were about to close the Doors, and she rushes off to join the audience next to Frank.

Irritation and winces lace her movements, since the burns from the mountain explosion have not completely healed yet. Frank too sits forward in his chair; the fire had seared off his belly and tail feathers when he and Hazel flew off the ledge, which transferred to a marred back with long, ugly scorches in his human figure.

In fact, the entire crew of seven demigods suffered from a whole collection of injuries, not fatal thankfully, but ones that Apollo couldn't treat as easily with a pack of ambrosia and some off-hand poetry. Gaea had left her mark and her poison resided in each monster's claws and swords. Jason's leg, for instance, had healed the wrong way from the temporary nectar he ingested on the ride back to camp, and setting it right landed him a month in the infirmary, plus a half a year of physical therapy afterwards. The caretakers had allowed him a momentary leave to attend the funeral, to which he walked to with a tender limp, to give the eulogy for Reyna.

Percy and Annabeth were a bit better off in terms of their physique, since Hades had granted them a blessing when they were in their most dire state, but both were constantly haunted by nightmares during their sleeps and flashbacks during their days. Now, Annabeth sits dignified in the front row, having already paid her respects, but Percy is nowhere to be seen.

Chiron trots up to the microphone, only for presentation purposes though, since his voice booms loud enough without the amplifier. "Now then, if that is all, we shall begin the burning of the shrouds to honor the fallen demigods." He raises his hands and pulls up the sleeves of his black tuxedo to summon the harpies with the shrouds. The fire in the pit center trembles purple as unease stirs through the campers- isn't Percy Jackson, survivor of Tartarus, hero of the war, uniter of the two camps, destined to say a few ultimate words before the burning began?

Suddenly, the earth rumbles, toppling chairs and dining tables. Kids jumps up in alarm, senses already suspecting the worst- a monster through the barrier, or a loose Titan? Clarisse stands protectively in front of her younger siblings, having already lost half of her cabin. Leo hovers near the fire, ready to use it to his will if the situation calls for it.

Instead, Hades erupts out of the ground, right next to Hazel, who is so startled she steps backwards into Piper, who in turn stumbles into several other campers. Hades watches the line of demigod dominoes with amusement. He wipes his hands, delicately adorned with black rings and skulls, on his tunic, and the dust simultaneously drifts apart. Greeks and Romans alike begin to drop into bows, but he puts a hand up to stop them.

"I suggest you wait for that. More are coming."

Demigods yelps in alarm as they scramble out of their places to let room for an incoming god or goddess (thankfully all in human form). Cracks and spots signal where they would appear- Hermes, Ares, and Athena come next-, and with the addition of the minor deities, there are too many to count. Annabeth notices Zeus and Poseidon are absent- in fact, only those with children that had died in the war are present.

Ares grumbles, rolling his shoulder and flexing his arm. "Alright, you punks. Let's get on with this funeral."

For the first time, Chiron is so flustered that he whinnies in surprise, throwing up his forelegs, tail stiff.

Hermes is more gracious with an explanation. He raises his caduceus, George and Martha hissing in synchronization, and a final concentric circle etches itself onto the stage. The air crackles with heat, and Percy appears, dazed like the ground had just burped him out as if he were a bad piece of chicken, but at least every limb is attached correctly.

He speaks meekly, "Hey. Uh, I brought some guests. Sorry for being late."

It takes a long while for the gods to settle down. They each give their respective speeches- each sounding a bit pretentious, but still they manage to choke out a few words about not being able to defeat the Titans with their children's help. When Percy finally takes the podium to give his last words, everyone is still shuffling their feet and avoiding eye contact with the twenty-some omni-potent figures in their midst.

"I'm not too great at this stuff, so I'll make it short. You know, I'll be honest with you guys. I didn't really want to come today. I wanted to stay away from this, as far as possible, because it hurt. It hurt thinking that somehow I'm still alive and breathing, while all of my friends gave their lives. It hurts thinking that maybe, some day in the future, we'll have to do this all over again, and some person that already died would have been able to do something that I couldn't. So I was scared to come.

But then a certain someone knocked some sense into me. After thinking about what she said, and after some time out in the ocean, I figured that it'd kind of be a disgrace to our fallen friends if everyone was a coward like me and no one showed up to the funeral. Because that would mean that we're still dragged down by the past, and that's not why they gave their lives. They gave their lives so that we could live ours.

I asked Lord Zeus' permission for the gods to come down here just this once, since so many of us were lost in the war. Greek or Roman, it doesn't really matter- they deserve to know that their parents and their friends and their teachers are all proud. Nothing makes you stronger than knowing that your friends died because they had faith in your abilities to make sure their deaths weren't in vain. So when we take a moment...I'm not going to tell everyone what to pray for, but for me, I'm going to pray that the fates give me the strength to properly honor them."

After a minute of booming silence, fire is set to the shrouds and sniffles come from the crowd, as they watch the wispy python of smoke slither its way up into the heavens.

At the same time, in a gold marble mansion atop a round hill of perfectly grown strawberry fields and honey-sweet ambrosia gardens, a group of similar demigods toasts their glasses of nectar, their laughs reverberating throughout Elysium.

**Hope you enjoyed! Sorry for the long wait- I wanted to make sure the last section was decent quality before I put it out. **

**So, what did you think- of the story, of the ending, of anything? Review!**

**PS- did anyone watch The Sea of Monsters? The movie as a movie by itself wasn't that great, but I adore the Percy Jackson series, so seeing that fandom come alive was amazing. :) **


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